City of Dragons by Kelli Stanley Read Free Book Online Page A

questioned by the police.”
    “This is more of a courtesy call, Miss Corbie.”
    She raised her eyebrow and glanced at Duggan, who was staring out the window.
    “Oh. Forgive me if I couldn’t tell.” She extinguished the cigarette in the Treasure Island ashtray and added, “Let’s get on with it. I’ve been warned away, and I didn’t take the warning. So what are you going to do? Arrest me, as Sir Lancelot suggested?”
    Duggan turned his neck slowly like the mechanical clown at Playland.
    “Gloves are off, baby, and don’t count on Phil. Seems like you fucked him one time too many, and the last one didn’t take. A little spell for solicitation’ll wipe that smile off your face. Send you right back to the whorehouse.”
    “Duggan—”
    “This greasy bastard wants a piece of your action, honey. I’d charge him double if I was you.”
    Gonzales was pale. He walked calmly over to stand in front of Duggan, who sat, his legs wide apart, smirking up at him, another toothpick dangling between his lips. Gonzales reached into his coat pocket, brown eyes empty, and took out a pair of pigskin gloves. With a quick, sudden motion, he lashed Duggan across the face with them. Twice.
    “Outside. I won’t dirty my hands with you.”
    Duggan was staring open-mouthed at Gonzales, the toothpick stuck to his lower lip. His rolling, apelike shoulders and arms seemed to shrink and hang loose, like a puppet without a puppeteer. He stood up, not looking at either of them. Then he braced himself against the wall with uncertainty while he put his hat back on, his heavy footsteps scuffing the wood floor as he walked out of the office. The door swung softly and automatically closed behind him.
    Gonzales turned to Miranda. “I’m sorry, Miss Corbie.”
    She shrugged. “Nothing I haven’t heard before. I’m sorry you’ve got such a son of a bitch for a partner.”
    “Like you said, Miss Corbie. Free, white, and twenty-one. I fit two of those categories.”
    She dug out another Chesterfield. “Call me Miranda. I appreciate you being square with me, and I appreciate the way you conduct yourself. How can I help you?”
    He took a couple of minutes to calm down, drifting over to her windowsill and staring at the Market Street traffic.
    “I’ll be brief. The new police chief would very much appreciate a low profile for the Takahashi case. So would District Attorney Brady. So would the mayors of San Francisco, Oakland, and Berkeley. And a lot of other people, almost as important.”
    “Check. I’m not with the Chronicle. ”
    He smiled, a charming one. “Yes, I know. But you know newspaper men, you’ve worked with them, and—forgive me—you tend to generate a certain amount of publicity yourself.”
    She shrugged again. “I had some high-profile cases last year, yeah. But it’s not like I’m in the society column every Sunday.”
    He stared at her earnestly. “Duggan was telling the truth. We’ve been assigned the Takahashi case, and we were told to call in vice if we have to. Brady is prepared to throw everything he can at you—or anyone else who doesn’t let it lie. He can’t afford another Atherton Report.”
    Miranda blew a stream of smoke toward the window. “Seems to me cleaning up the police department—such as it is—has given him enough to do in the last three years. My lawyer would have me out in thirty minutes and the case would be dismissed.”
    “I know. But it would do you damage. Even if you didn’t lose your license, the publicity—”
    She leaned forward. “Listen, Inspector. I used to work for an escort service. Everyone knows that. The Board knows it, the chief knows it, Brady knows it, even your pal Duggan knows it. I was never nailed there, and I won’t be nailed here. And it so happens that I do have a few friends, a couple of them in higher places than the Hall of Justice, and I’m reasonably sure that as long as I keep my nose clean I’ll be hanging on to my license. As for the